Top Dog

I like dogs. They’re typically friendly and eager to please, which is more than you can say for some other pets (cats), not to mention people. But dogs, at least the ones I know, tend to be rambunctious, so I was curious to see how thousands of dogs would comport themselves at the Bay Colony Cluster Dog Show at the Bayside Expo Center.

First of all, I wondered whether the dogs know that they’re in a canine beauty contest. When I was growing up, we had a Samoyed named Chopper who put the “stink” in “instinct,” so I know that a dog might drag her butt across the rug and think that dead animals are the Chanel No. 5 of fine fragrances regardless of her pedigree. Would these dogs behave when under scrutiny?

My expectations were also informed by watching Best in Show. The people that I spoke with were much more down to earth than any of the characters in that movie, but the film accurately represents the essential comedic elements of a dog show. For instance, the running: A dog’s handler parades it around the ring for the judge, and this routine includes a brisk trot. The dogs invariably have a kind of straight-legged snooty gait, as if they’ve got a tray of martinis on their backs that they’re determined not to spill. The people, meanwhile, are attempting to keep up while wearing business attire. Even if dogs don’t float your boat, watching a bullmastiff prance around like a big slobbery Baryshnikov while a woman in a skirt frantically tries to keep pace is worth the price of admission.

As for the dogs themselves, the area around the main ring was amazingly serene. Barking was noticeable by its absence, despite the fact that there were dogs of all kinds everywhere. I did witness a furry Chihuahua enthusiastically try to hump a fellow contestant in the toy dog competition, but given that none of the pooches are spayed or neutered, the display of unbridled hormonal urges was somewhat less frequent than what occurs at your average high-school dance.

Apparently a measure of impropriety is expected, anyway. Liz Harris, the owner of a Brussels Griffin named Penny (pictured above), told me that the judges like to see some “energy” from the competitors. A dog who behaves might lose points if he appears lethargic, while one who tries to invent a new breed with a comely competitor could win. It’s a subjective process. The bulldog who stood up on his hind legs to take a look at the inspection table and promptly toppled over backwards didn’t win anything, but maybe he was a little cross-eyed, had bad breath, or the judge just wasn’t partial to bulldogs. Harris informed me that dogs accrue points by winning from show to show, but in order to attain “champion” status a dog must have been singled out by at least three judges. This prevents the French judge from unfairly keeping a worthy dog down.

The scene in the ring was interesting for a while, but there is only so long that you can watch dogs waiting to get fondled by a guy whose intense facial expression is more appropriate to someone deliberating Roe v. Wade than whether or not a shih tzu’s tail is hanging a bit crooked. So I wandered off to check out the vendors.

There were stands at the show selling every conceivable kind of dog-related paraphernalia. One booth sold signs, which were emblazoned with slogans like “Caution: Show Dogs” and “I Love My Doberman.” However, one license-plate frame read “I have PMS and ESP—I’m a bitch who knows everything.” That appeared to be taking liberties with the dog theme, if you ask me.

I briefly considered trying to find some type of merchandise that carried a likeness of my parents’ dog, George, to give them as a kitschy Christmas present, but George is an AKC (Accidental Kustom Canine) so that would’ve been a fruitless pursuit. It’s just as well, really. Knowing my Mom, I’d get her a set of coasters with George’s face printed on them as a joke, and the next time I came home she’d have commissioned a mural of him chasing a ball across the entire living room. She’ll take an idea and run with it, my Mom.

Overall, I enjoyed myself at the show, but it’s too bad there’s not a Wild Card berth for mutts. Dogs who aren’t competing aren’t allowed at the show, and I know a poodle named Ale Kai Mikimoto on Fifth whom George would love to help celebrate her Best in Show.